


Missing You

by drunkteeth



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hammer Time, M/M, Pepsi Cola, davejohn - Freeform, idfk, johndave - Freeform, trigger warning, what other ship names do they have
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkteeth/pseuds/drunkteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider, and god damn you’re so stupid.</p>
<p>Your best friend, the person who meant the world to you, the person you had feelings for, but never admitted to them, the person who was there for you whenever you were down was in the hospital.</p>
<p>In a coma.</p>
<p>On Life support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Your name is Dave Strider, and god damn you’re so stupid.

Your best friend, the person who meant the world to you, the person you had feelings for, but never admitted to them, the person who was there for you whenever you were down was in the hospital. The doctors keep saying that they’re doing everything they can - but you know he’s not going to make it.

And it was your fault. You’re the one that told him “everything would be alright” and that “you’d be there soon”, but to be honest you weren’t thinking. You should have bolted straight o your car once you got his call. He was fucking sobbing for Christ’s sake. You remember him telling you that he didn’t know where he was, or what happened. He was downtown, in a alley way, he’d said he couldn’t walk, he thought his ankle was broken, and his left eye was swollen shut.

And now he’s in the hospital.

In a coma.

On Life support.

You wish you would have been smart then.

 

________________________________________________________________________________

You sat in the chair next to his bed side, holding his frail hand in yours, watching, waiting, just yearning for him to open his eyes, give you his big, dopey smile, and laugh at you for being so worried for no reason. You could barely tell it was him, when you first saw him. His face was red and splotchy, his right eye was swollen, and you could tell he’d been beaten. A large tube trailed down his throat, breathing for him, making his chest elevate, like he was actually there, but he wasn’t. All you could do was hope that your blue eyed angel would wake up.

You didn’t even get the chance to tell him how you really feel about him. You love him. You love everything about him. How excited he gets over the smallest things, how his eyes light up when he’s happy, how his hands move across the keys when he’s playing his piano, just - everything. You brush his hand with your thumb and bring it up to your mouth, kissing his knuckles. “I promise you’re going to be okay.” he whispers, but he’s not even sure he believes himself.


	2. The Rush

You went home that night at 11:00 - the nurses had stopped haggling you about when visiting hours were over. You lay in your bed, staring up at your ceiling for hour after hour. You knew you wouldn’t ever be able to sleep.

At 9:00am, you’re up and driving. The hospital is around 10 minutes from your house. You get there by 9:20. There was a bit of traffic.

The first thing you do when you get to the hospital is trump up the endless flights of stairs, pokerfaced your entire way to room 413. Your breath hitched as the scene plays out before you. Doctors are rushing, nurses are swiftly running down the hall, all going to the same room.  
Room 413.

Your head starts to spin as you take it all in. What’s going on? You manage to forced your numb legs to stride forward and hastily ask what was going on. 

.“The young man in 413 had a seizure.” She said solemnly, covering her hands with white latex gloves. You could have sworn your heart stopped in that very moment. You push through the crowded people and manage to push the door open, catching a glimpse of John’s stark white face before nurses pulled you back. His eyes are wide open, but he’s not there. Doctors are shocking and pumping his chest. A lump formed in your throat as the doors close and the window draws closed.

You’re yelling, now. Yelling out for the boy with the ink black hair. Nurses are shushing you, comforting you, wrapping you with blankets and telling you everything would be alright, the doctors would do everything they would to save him.

But you just couldn’t believe it. You knew he was gone and there’s nothing you could do to bring him back.

Or, that’s what you had convinced yourself anyway.


End file.
